LoveUbecause … “A Slice of Bologna - A Memorable Slice of Life!”

LoveUbecause  … 

“A Slice of Bologna - A Memorable Slice of Life!”

 Stay-at-home parenting - glamorous? No! But nonetheless, life does sometimes amount to a celebration of the seemingly mundane – namely, making a good bologna sandwich – In my book, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that!

 Let’s rewind. Coming to Canada in 1965 and being parachuted into grade three, smack dab in the middle of the term, could have come with its own set of childhood traumas. Thanks to the sensitivity of my teacher, the transition was smoothed out with a little practicality.

 It was like on television. Classroom door opens. Principal escorts new kid in. Class members vet him like a goat entering the auction ring. Class bully thinks him a good prospect to lead out to slaughter. Some pretty little girls think he would be better kept as a pet.

 “Class, this is “A” from England,” Miss “P” announced. “ “R”, you are going to be “A”’s new friend!”

 And so it was. “R” and I drifted in and out of each other’s lives as friends until I graduated from university.

 Now just as the Chinese have a year of the monkey or rooster. Between age twelve and thirteen, when”R” and I were particularly close, I had my “year of the bologna sandwich.”

 My mother dubbed “R” “the once-a-weeker”, as he would join my father, mother and I for lunch at our home on a weekly basis. In turn, I frequently walked to “R”’s and lunched with “R” and his Mom.

 My mother’s lunches were delicious, but to me, “R”’s Mom was simply “the bees-knees” – she made bologna sandwiches! You have to understand that my family was European - my mother, German, my father Austrian. Mushy commercial, white bread was sometimes tolerated. Lax schinken – nobility. Bologna – uncivil! Unsalted butter – a constant. Prepared commercial mayonnaise was not welcome to cross our threshold!

 Bologna sandwiches? It was about being Canadian! It was about having something I never got at home. It was about “R” and I sitting on the couch flipping through the Eatons’ catalogue while his Mom prepared sandwiches and called us when they were ready. She always smiled, never had a harsh word and enjoyed listening to whatever we had to say. If it was rainy and cloudy outside, I always remember it feeling sunny in that kitchen. She was simply a kind lady who made great bologna sandwiches with fresh, cottony white bread, mustard and mayonnaise. As a kid that was important to me! 

After that year, “R” and I drifted apart as really good friends. We attended high school together, but circumstance didn’t see us spending as much time together as companions.

 ”R”’s Mom tragically died a few years later. I remember coincidentally meeting “R” and his sister in the shop where I worked part-time during the holidays, and they told me of her passing. Though I genuinely felt an important part of the spirit and soul of my childhood had unexpectedly been ripped away, I awkwardly had little to say. I was a teenager. Death was simply unfamiliar to me. For that, even now, more than thirty years later, I feel a need to apologize.

 Several years ago I met “R”’s sister at a high school reunion. “You know I will always remember your Mom for her great bologna sandwiches,” I blurted out. I might have misinterpreted, but I think she was slightly insulted, as obviously the sum of her mother’s life was much more than fluffy white bread and a luncheon meat. Without my attached sentiment, it must have struck her as being a rather stupid comment.

 But here is the thing. My kids like bologna sandwiches! Every time I make one, or any sandwich with cottony white bread, I smile and think of “R”’s Mom. It simply makes me feel really good! And to me that really counts! 

At the end of the day, the Mick Jaggers, Princess Dianas, and George Bushes might have been newsworthy - for entertainment, good reason, or perhaps bad . But comparatively I don’t think of them much. Many of us live life desperately trying to make a noteworthy contribution. We don’t realize it is the little things we do that count and will be remembered. It is remembering people like “R”’s Mom that reminds me, that as a parent, I am important not only to my own children, but hopefully to their friends who visit too. It is about not feeling awkward to still give my son a hug and tell him I love him when he leaves to go back to college after a visit home. It is about taking the time to go for a ride on our horses, or chat about just about anything with my teenage daughter. Sometimes it is sitting down around a dining room table to eat and laugh over a family dinner with my children and their friends. Sometimes it is just being there. And sometimes it as simple as making a bologna sandwich with love, kindness and a smile. 

“A” the “O” in LVE!

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Posted in About Love and Life, Uncategorized
Tags: family, friends, life, love, parenting, parents